Orenda had always been good at math, and with a quick scan she counted 24 soldiers. She didn’t particularly like those odds, one to twelve, given that they were probably the strongest, most highly trained Urillians she would ever meet.

“Who the hell are you?” The man asked, and after a beat he further asked, “Nochdifache?”

“Yes,” Orenda said, so thrown by the situation that she couldn’t process how he had guessed her name. A beat of silence passed between them, as they stared into each other’s eyes, neither breaking contact. Orenda saw the other soldiers move into formation and draw weapons in her peripheral vision, and wished her brain would do anything other than present a blank slate.

“You’re a woman?” The man asked as if the fact shocked him as much as her race.

“Yes,” Orenda said, and finally began to grow insulted.

“You can’t be here,” the man said as if it was obvious, because it was, “You’re under arrest!”

“Good luck with that,” Orenda said, because it was the only thing that popped into her mind. She didn’t really understand why they were having a conversation rather than fighting, and the man didn’t seem to understand either. They had each shocked the other into a stalemate, and the reality of the situation had not yet really sunk in for Orenda, so she continued, “I’d like you to get out of my way.”

“You’re under arrest!” The man said again, and moved as if he was going to put a hand on her arm.

Slay them, master.

“All of them?” Orenda asked, “There’s quite a lot of them.”

“And what the hell is that thing?” The man asked, looking down at Anilla. He did touch Orenda’s arm, far more forcefully than she was comfortable with, and Orenda scowled down at him.

“Listen,” Orenda said, “I need you to let go of me. I don’t want you touching me.”

“You’re under arrest,” The man said again, and Orenda looked around at all the weapons drawn on her.

Reality finally hit her, and she realized that even one of those arrows could go into her brain and end her life. That one of those swords could pierce some vital organ- that sterilite protected from magic, but not every soldier was a mage.

“Why?” She said, because it was the only thing she could think to say.

“Treason, murder, trespassing, conspiracy,” the man said, and he sounded as if he meant to go on, but Orenda cut him off.

“You know,” she said, “That’s fair enough, I suppose. It really is. I haven’t been thinking about it that way.”

Orenda thought that she sounded very much like her Uncle Gareth, and she suddenly understood why he spoke the way he did. The Urillians were so far removed from reality that it was almost hilarious, in a ‘laugh so you don’t cry’ sort of way. They really were going to kill her, and the prospect was so ridiculous that she began to laugh so hard she had to throw her free hand over her face.

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“Bring her before the empress!” The man said.

“Oh, certainly,” Orenda laughed, “That’s where I was going anyway. The bitch is probably in my chair!”

“Would anyone like a drink?” A man asked, and as ridiculous as it already was, the situation somehow got even worse, because Orenda looked up to see Sonny Brigaddon wearing a servant’s uniform and carrying a tray on his shoulder that was loaded with glasses of some sort of clear, fragrant alcohol.

“You can’t be up here!” One of the soldiers said.

“Well now, I’m terrible sorry,” Sonny said, “I was told to bring refreshments. Am I in the wrong place?”

“Yes!” another soldier snapped.

“Is that a fire elf?” Sonny asked in mock alarm, staring at Orenda.

“Will someone scry the queen and tell them we’ve caught Captain Nochdifache?” Their leader asked, and Orenda saw one of the soldier’s staves begin to light.

“I wouldn’t do that, sir,” Sonny said, and when no one paid him any mind he threw the tray, drinks and all, so hard that when it hit the soldier Orenda heard a sickening crack. The force of it knocked the soldier into the wall behind him, and when he fell, he left a trail of blood. Whatever was in those glasses went flying, splashing all over everyone in the vicinity; the smell of it alone nearly knocked Orenda off her feet.

The soldiers could not believe what they had just seen, and in the second it took them to process what had happened, Sonny took a bow. He went down a human, but he came up a monster. The uniform he wore ripped to shreds with his new bulk, then the soldiers sprang into action.

“Let go of me!” Orenda demanded, but the man holding her elected, instead, to draw his sword. Orenda’s eyes widened as he drew back his hand to stab her, so she leaned into him, on the arm he was holding, and used that hand to cast.

The man screamed as the medallion and her earrings glowed, and Orenda felt his blood boil in his veins. The hand attached to the arm he was holding buried into his abdomen, where he kept his vital organs, and they sizzled as they cooked. For a moment he seemed not to understand, not to know what was happening, and Orenda reached up with her other hand to grab the wrist of the hand holding the sword- and then the man was a cooked piece of meat.

The smell of it filled the hall, and Orenda stared at this thing that had once been a living, feeling, thinking person, but was now an inanimate object.

Then she looked up to see Sonny jump and kick out with his strong back legs. The soldier’s head spun as he kicked it, and when he went down, he did not get back up. But there were so many of them.

“Where is she?” Orenda screamed over the chaos.

“Information gathering!” Sonny yelled back, then to the soldiers he said, “catch me if you can, motherfuckers!” And went sprinting off down the hallway.

He had obviously meant this as a distraction, a diversion, to get the soldiers away from Orenda and Anilla, and Orenda suspected it was a well calculated move.

But apparently not all rabbits were good at math.

Some of the soldiers did follow Sonny, but there were so many of them that a good ten of them turned to face Orenda. The way they stood spoke of knowledge and practice- each covered the weaknesses of the others, and Orenda had to admire them for their sheer skill. Part of her was not sure that she could win this fight.

Slay them, master.

But the other part of her was a pirate, a Knight of Order, and the chosen avatar of a god.

“I advise you,” Orenda said, “To think very carefully about the decision you are making.” She reached behind her and unwrapped the staff, then held it in front of her as if it were not a useless, pretty thing, but an actual weapon, “I am the chosen child of Thesis. I have pulled this Sacred Staff from the Sacred Flames of the Sacred Mountain Temple and I am giving you this one chance to walk away with your lives. None of you have to die today. You can leave now.”

She took a step forward.

“Or you can sizzle when you die like your dear captain.”